


How Traditions Begin

by surlybobbies



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Holidays, M/M, Traditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-30 01:22:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17214395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surlybobbies/pseuds/surlybobbies
Summary: “In that case, do you want to come over on Christmas Eve?”There was a slightly-too-long pause.  When Cas dared to look over, he saw a small furrow between Dean’s brow.  He blinked at the road in front of them.  “D’you mean me and Sam?  Or - just me?”Cas let the silence hang between them, hoping Dean would understand without putting words to it.  They’d been best friends for years, had seen each other through new relationships and bad breakups, but lately Dean had been staying later and leaning closer and speaking softer, and after a while Cas had had to accept that maybe the signs he was receiving weren’t just wishful thinking on his part.He waited for Dean to figure it out in the silence: he wanted Christmas this year to be for them and no one else.He saw the exact moment it clicked for Dean: he blinked again at the road and licked his lips and took a very deep, long breath before saying, “Yeah.  Okay.”





	How Traditions Begin

**Author's Note:**

> Left this until the last minute, didn't I? Yikes. :B
> 
> Written for the Holiday Mixtape 2018.

Dean didn’t do Christmas, but then again, neither did Cas - not really. He played Christmas songs every so often and one year he put up lights to shine through his little apartment window, but besides that, Christmas had always been something that other people did. People with loved ones. Families. Not Cas.

This year, however, there was something about the way the Christmas lights played across Dean’s face as he drove that made Cas a little nostalgic for the Christmases he never had. 

“Are you and Sam doing something for Christmas?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant as he looked out the passenger side window. 

“C’mon, man,” Dean mumbled, “You know we’re not big on Christmas.” His voice was heavy and slow with the after-dinner fog he’d eaten himself into. “Probably just gonna grab some dinner or something. Ugh. Still gotta get him a present, though.”

Cas nodded. Licked his lips. “In that case, do you want to come over on Christmas Eve?”

There was a slightly-too-long pause. When Cas dared to look over, he saw a small furrow between Dean’s brow. He blinked at the road in front of them. “D’you mean me and Sam? Or - just me?”

Cas let the silence hang between them, hoping Dean would understand without putting words to it. They’d been best friends for years, had seen each other through new relationships and bad breakups, but lately Dean had been staying later and leaning closer and speaking softer, and after a while Cas had had to accept that maybe the signs he was receiving weren’t just wishful thinking on his part. 

He waited for Dean to figure it out in the silence: he wanted Christmas this year to be for them and no one else. 

He saw the exact moment it clicked for Dean: he blinked again at the road and licked his lips and took a very deep, long breath before saying, “Yeah. Okay.”

“7 okay for you?”

“Yeah, okay,” Dean said again. He was staring straight at the road. His knuckles were pale against the steering wheel.

“Don’t bring anything.”

“Yeah, okay.”

 

 

“You brought something,” Cas accused. He stepped aside from the door and frowned at Dean, even though it was Christmas Eve and Dean smelled divine. 

Dean heaved the paper bag onto Cas’s countertop. “Just some booze, dude, relax.”

Cas opened the fridge to show Dean the contents. “I’m chilling some wine.” He rolled his eyes at Dean’s expression. “You’ll live without a glass of scotch, Dean.”

Dean shucked off his coat. “Is it really living if I’m drinking grape juice?”

“Ass.”

“That’s what I’m known for,” Dean said smoothly. He hung up his coat. 

Cas turned away, determined not to be caught looking at Dean’s butt after that comment. “I made lasagna.”

“For Christmas?” Dean was in a green sweater. He looked far too good for Cas’s mental health. “I know I don’t do Christmas, but don’t people usually do like - turkey? Pot roast?”

“I don’t know how to make those things.”

Dean leaned against the wall opposite the oven, trying to peer into it. “Could teach you,” he said. “Maybe for next Christmas.” Then he laughed. “But that lasagna does look damn good, bud, I’ll give you that.”

Cas tried to smile, but his head was caught in a loop. _Next Christmas,_ Dean had said. _Maybe for next Christmas_ , like their future involved spending Christmas together and roasting turkey together and making traditions together. He felt his hands start to shake a little. He shoved them into oven mitts and shooed Dean away. 

“Sit down so I can be a proper host and serve you.”

Dean ignored the order. “Well, if we’re doing this ‘proper’ and all that, might as well break out the wine.” He found Cas’s corkscrew and pulled out two wine glasses from a cupboard. By the time Cas had the lasagna out of the oven and was searching for a proper serving utensil, Dean had uncorked the wine - dark red - and poured out two generous portions.

“Didn’t I tell you to sit down?” Cas asked, mostly because it was too much to see Dean moving around Cas’s kitchen like he belonged there.

Dean had downed half his glass. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and made a face. “That cannot be good for you.” At Cas’s look, he rolled his eyes. “Alright, already, I’m sitting down.” He took the two glasses and set them at Cas’s small dining table. Then he sat down and stared at the plates. “Where’d you get these plates, dude?”

Cas had the casserole dish in his hands and was walking to the table. “Bought them,” he said.

“They’re… Christmas-themed.”

The plates had been on sale, and knowing he would have Dean as company on Christmas Eve, Cas hadn’t been able to resist. “Yes.”

Dean looked up. His expression was unreadable. “You bought them for tonight?”

Cas took his time setting the dish down. “Well, I assume I’ll be living past just this one Christmas and that I’ll be using them next year.”

“So that’s a yes.”

Cas sat down and unfolded his napkin. “I suppose.”

Dean stared at him. Then he looked back down at his empty plate. “Didn’t you say you were going to serve me?”

Cas did so, his cheeks heating when Dean looked up and grinned at him cheekily.

“I was joking, but thanks.”

Cas rolled his eyes. He served himself and began eating, thankful that he had something to do other than think about the way Dean’s leg was leaning against his underneath the table and how it had to be deliberate.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Dean said eventually, after a second portion of lasagna. “Everything okay?” 

Cas wiped his mouth. “Yes, thank you,” he said, a complete lie. At Dean’s slight frown, Cas just raised his wine glass. “To Christmas?”

Dean shrugged. “I guess,” he said, and leaned forward with his own glass. 

They took sips. Cas put his glass down and was suddenly reminded that he and his best friend were very much alone in his apartment, about to celebrate the coming of Christmas together, and if things went according to plan, by the time Dean left, he’d be leaving as something rather more than just Cas’s best friend.

Dean still apparently wasn’t convinced that Cas was okay. “Dude,” he said. He’d polished off his lasagna and his wine and was now frowning outright at Cas. “You’re pale. You sure you don’t wanna get some shuteye? I can get out of your hair - “

“No,” Cas said immediately. “No.” He’d looked forward to this dinner since Dean had accepted the invitation, and he wasn’t going to let the opportunity slip away. “I have pie.”

Dean’s eyebrows rose. “You baked?”

“No,” Cas said, standing up and taking Dean’s plate. “You’ll see.”

When he came back to the dining table with his treasure in his hands, Dean’s eyes widened. “No shit,” he said.

“It was the last they had,” Cas said, lifting the lid of the box in his hands to reveal Dean’s favorite apple pie. “I got lucky.”

“Cas, you stood in line for this?”

Cas shrugged. He set the box in the middle of the table, right next to the lasagna.

Dean didn’t make a move to serve himself a slice of pie. He was staring instead at Cas. “That line went around the block, dude.”

“It went surprisingly fast,” Cas mumbled. Truthfully, he’d stood in line for two hours between a mom with a screaming toddler and a young, sickeningly sweet couple, but he’d weathered the experience because he knew the pie would make Dean happy.

Dean gave Cas a reproachful look, but at least his hands were moving toward the pie. “If you say so.” He cut out a slice and placed it on Cas’s plate, rolling his eyes at Cas’s indignation. “Stop it, you big baby,” Dean said. “I’ll live if I don’t get the first slice of pie.”

Cas scowled. “You know you’re the guest here, right?”

“So I can do what I want,” Dean said easily, sitting down and pulling his chair in. Once again, he laid his leg against Cas’s. He took a bite of pie and winked at Cas.

Cas rolled his eyes but took a bite too. The pie was good. It wasn’t amazing, but Dean was closing his eyes in appreciation, and the two hours standing outside of the bakery were suddenly more than worth it.

Later, after clearing Dean’s plate and loading the dishwasher, Cas gave into Dean’s groggy insistence to join him on the couch and to “bring the grape juice.”

Cas refilled their glasses once he got to the couch and sat down next to Dean. One of Cas’s neighbors was blasting Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas Is You,” and apparently Dean began humming along. 

“I hate this song,” Dean said happily. “I hate that I love it.”

Cas laughed. The wine was making him feel light, and the sight of Dean happy and healthy in his home was making him feel even lighter. “Thank you for coming, Dean,” he said, after the song ended and Dean’s head had lolled back onto the back of the couch.

Dean’s hand reached blindly for Cas’s knee and squeezed. “Of course, Cas,” he said, his eyes closed. “No other way I’d have spent it.”

“Are you falling asleep?” Cas accused.

Dean’s eyes snapped open. “No,” he said, trying to straighten. Then he sighed. “Would you absolutely hate me if I said yes?”

Cas smiled, though he was a little disappointed. “No,” he said. “Are you going to head home?”

Dean frowned a little petulantly. “Sending me home already?”

“No,” Cas said immediately. “Not unless you want to leave.”

Dean rubbed his eyes. “The whole point was to stay up for Christmas, right? I wanna stay, but I could do with some coffee.”

“I can do that,” Cas murmured, standing up. 

Dean made a valiant effort to get up too. “Let me help.”

“Just sit down and try to stay awake,” Cas ordered, rolling his eyes at Dean’s pout. He went to the kitchen and began a brew, but halfway through the process he looked over at Dean to see that his guest had lost the battle to sleep, despite still sitting up. Cas shook his head in affection and set the coffee to keep warm.

He found a blanket in his bedroom drawer. It was his softest and warmest, and Dean deserved the best. Cas draped it over him. 

Then despite himself, Cas yawned. He looked at the time. It was barely 8pm. He looked again at Dean. Might as well join him. Cas sat down and draped the blanket over himself as well.

 

 

When Cas woke, it was with the distinct sense that he was forgetting something, but his bed was so warm and comfortable that he couldn’t be bothered to care. He reached around blindly for his phone to check the time. He hit something else, something warmer. 

Then he remembered. He wasn’t in his bed. He wasn’t alone. _It was Christmas Eve._

His eyes snapped open and met Dean’s amused ones. “Do you normally try to attack your guests after they’ve fallen asleep?” Dean asked. Cas’s hand had made contact with Dean’s chest, and Dean had caught Cas’s hand and hadn’t let go.

Cas covered his face with his other hand. “I’m so sorry, Dean,” he whispered in mortification. “I can’t believe I let myself fall asleep.” He looked around again. “What time is it?”

“Half past 10, relax.” Dean’s voice was lower than usual, a little slower and a little rougher. And he still hadn’t let go of Cas’s hand, instead letting their linked hands sink to the space between their thighs. “I’ve been up for a while, had some coffee. Thanks, by the way.”

“And you didn’t wake me up?” Cas said indignantly. “What kind of houseguest are you?”

Dean snorted. “One who knows you spent at least three hours standing in line for that pie.”

“It was two,” Cas protested.

Dean shrugged. “You deserved the nap.” His eyes were half-lidded as he looked at Cas, but his lips were upturned. And he still hadn’t let go of Cas’s hand.

Cas let the moment sink in. When he squeezed Dean’s hand and felt Dean squeeze in return, he couldn’t resist a smile. He dared to move closer, and when Dean didn’t move away, Cas licked his lips.

“Hey,” Dean said, very softly. He smelled like coffee. His eyes were gentle.

“Hey,” Cas said too. He was so close to Dean that if he tilted his head up just a little, and Dean leaned in just a little in turn…

“You know you talk in your sleep?”

Cas drew back. “What?”

Dean grinned. “You were mumbling something about pie a few minutes ago.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “Probably something to do with standing for three hours in the middle of winter to pick up some subpar pie for my houseguest.”

“Two hours,” Dean corrected. He leaned in, closer than ever. “And thank you for that, by the way.”

Cas tried to shrug in nonchalance, though he was distracted by Dean’s lips, mere inches away. “Merry Christmas.”

“For two guys who don’t really do Christmas, we did pretty well.”

“You mean _I_ did pretty well.” Cas dared to reach up and touch Dean’s cheek, rewarded when Dean’s face flushed a little pinker. 

“I drank the grape juice, didn’t I?” Dean said.

“Then fell asleep on my couch.”

“You joined me, didn’t you? Must not have been too bad of an idea.”

Cas didn’t bother arguing. He was too busy smiling, too busy soaking in the anticipation of what was going to happen next, too busy trying to memorize the way Dean’s eyes shined in the reflection of the string lights outside, the warmth of Dean’s skin under his palm, the affection in the upturn of Dean’s mouth.

It was amazing to him that he found himself in this moment, that something like this could happen to him, that Dean Winchester was smiling back at him in his apartment, that they were about to move forward together after years of friendship, that this was a thing that he could trust in.

Dean touched Cas’s face. “You’re amazing, y’know that?” he said, right before leaning in. 

The initial kiss was soft, but Cas indulged in it all the same, knowing they had ages until Christmas and all the privacy they wanted. He pressed harder. Dean managed a delighted laugh between breaths, and when he snuck a hand up Cas’s sweater, Cas rewarded him with a nip of his bottom lip.

“Jesus,” Dean whispered, drawing back. His eyes were shining, his cheeks were flushed. “Why didn’t we do this sooner?” His hands were brands against Cas’s ribs.

Cas dragged a thumb across Dean’s bottom lip, satisfied when he saw the slight mark he’d made with his teeth. “The question is _why did you stop?_ ” Then he saw the nervous bob of Dean’s throat. He drew back, just a little bit. “Sorry,” he said.

“No,” Dean stuttered. His hands scrambled to pull Cas closer. “Jeez, no - I’m just - I didn’t - I never imagined - this is _better_ than I imagined.” He kissed Cas on the jaw. “I just needed a second,” he murmured into Cas’s ear. “We’re good.”

“Good,” Cas said, and leaned in for a hard kiss.

 

 

“Hey, it’s Christmas,” Dean whispered a few hours later - both still on the couch with rumpled sweaters and rucked-up hair. 

Cas was endorphin-high and in love. He dropped his forehead onto Dean’s shoulder and laughed. “Too busy making out like teenagers to notice.”

Dean chuckled. The warmth of his breath made Cas shiver. “We could start a tradition.”

“What, every Christmas we make out until we forget our names?”

“Well, hopefully it doesn’t just happen on Christmas, but yeah.”

Cas snorted. “I don’t know how that tradition will work out when we’re 70. Maybe we can come up with a few back-up plans.”

“Still planning on being with me when I’m 70?” Dean teased. “That’s confident.”

Cas huffed a laugh into Dean’s neck. He’d been waiting for this day for years, and would have waited even longer if Dean had needed more time. He wasn’t letting Dean go if he could help it. “I’m going to keep you for as long as you’ll let me.”

Dean wrapped his arms around Cas’s back and drew them even closer together. “You’re stuck with me forever then.” There was a smile in his voice when he said, “Making out until we’re senior citizens.”

Cas sighed. “Stop ruining the moment.”

“That could be a tradition too.”

Cas raised his head to scowl at Dean. “You talk too much.”

Dean's grin was cheeky. "You could fix that."

Cas sighed again, like kissing Dean was a chore. By the time he leaned in, however, his hand was in Dean's and he was suppressing a smile.


End file.
